


Red and White

by ExpatGirl



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl
Summary: I’ve been dreaming. He’s going to kill me.
  Snow White. But not as you know it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BurningTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/gifts).



> Happy birthday, BurningTea. I'm not sure if this is what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy.
> 
> (My prompts were: apple, hearth)
> 
>  **Note** : There's now a [sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916677)!

_I’ve been dreaming. He’s going to kill me._  

The words had troubled her for days, and she wasn’t sure why. The girl meant nothing to her: just some provincial princess, a scion of a minor line who’d lucked into a moderately prosperous port and astonishing good looks. Rowena suspected Fae blood, probably on the father’s side. The black hair was common enough, and even the skin, but the mouth--too red and troubling. And the eyes. The eyes always told.

 Fae blood. Which was all very well, but not enough to be of real use, beyond the tremor of precognition that the girl had. The king probably was going to kill her. His tastes ran strange (most men’s did), she knew firsthand, and he was weak for power (most men were). The last time she’d been in chamber, under those gold-trimmed sheets, she’d seen the knife, and the box of yew wood, smelled the smoke of a demon still in the air.

The girl had been in the castle for two days at that point. The king sent her retinue away after one night, and she’d yet to unpack a single trunk. She still smelled of the pine forests of her home. Her skin was mottled blotchy pink.

“You’ll ruin your complexion if you keep crying like that,” Rowena had said, as they passed in the hall. “And the wedding’s only a week hence.” The girl gave one startled blink at Rowena’s nakedness, but then pressed her lips together and nodded. Her eyes were huge and dark, the water of a deep well.

“I know,” she said quietly. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. She clutched her own arms. “You…” She averted her gaze.

“Me? What about me?” Silence. “What’s the matter girl, cat got your tongue?”

“There’s power in you,” she said. “I can...tell these things.”

“That’s so,” Rowena said. She smoothed her hands through her hair. “So?” 

“I’ve been dreaming,” she said, to the wall behind Rowena. And then, suddenly, she looked her in the eye, and Rowena plummeted to the depths of that well. “He’s going to kill me.” Without another word, she ran off in a rustle of saffron silk. The color of betrothal. 

“Odd little bird,” Rowena said, continuing on her way to the king’s chamber. But something in her shook, just a little.

  
****

  
Rowena lay in her own room at the inn the next night. She gave up on sleep after a few fitful hours. 

She groaned angrily and rose, then knelt by the hearth, where the fire always burned with sweet-smelling wood. She drew a sigil in the ashes and a burnished mirror solidified from the flames, cool and pleasant to touch. It had belonged to the king’s first wife. She doubted he even noticed its absence.

 “Show me,” she said, and it did.

Rowena pinched the bridge of her nose. “For pity’s sake,” she told the mirror, “I only moved here because I wanted better weather.”

The mirror hummed faintly in reply, like a finger run along the edge of a wineglass.

“Oh, spare me the _moralizing_.”

The mirror was silent.

“Al _right_ ,” Rowena sighed. “I’ll...see what I can do.”

 

**** 

The wedding came and went. Rowena watched in the soft glow of the mirror. Mostly. She succumbed to boredom around the four hour mark, when the players began yet another round of interminable _hey nonny nonny-ing_ , or whatever the hell they sang here.

The girl was clad in blue and white and shimmered on the surface like a snow mirage. “I must know who did her hair,” Rowena mused, resting her cheek against her fist. She was just about to put the mirror down when, all at once, the girl turned to look directly at her, sharp as a pin, and Rowena’s breath left her. 

Then the girl turned back to the priest and lowered her head. “I do.”

 

****

The huntsman was young and handsome and breathtakingly stupid. 

“My dear,” she said, catching his elbow. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I think you’ve misunderstood. He wants you to take her to the woods because that’s where the honeymoon cottage is.”

“But...he said...her heart.”

 

“No, no. Not _her_ heart, _a_ hart." 

“I...what?”

“A deer, dear.” He looked at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the yew-wood box. “Bring back the heart of a deer. A male deer.” She looked at the girl, whose troubling mouth had gone pale. “Isn’t that right, my Queen?”

Again that look. “Yes,” she said slowly, as the idea took hold. Then, more firmly: “Yes,” She raised her pointed little chin. “He wants you to take a deer in payment of your service. ”

“But the _heart_ ,” Rowena said, “you bring back.”

“Ah,” the huntsman said, visibly relieved. “Oh, that’s much better than what I originally thought he wanted.”

 “Glad we cleared that up.” Rowena rested her hand against his chest. He was extremely...firm.

 While the huntsman, whistling one of those irritating wedding tunes, busied himself with the saddle, Rowena leaned close to the girl. “There’s a cottage half a day’s ride from here. Follow the river downhill until you find it. Wait there and let no one see you.”

The girl hugged her, then. She still, after all these weeks, smelled of pine forests: deep and resinous and green.

 Fae blood, Rowena remembered.

  
****

  
In her arms, the girl grew cold. The apple, almost as red as her lips, rolled under the table and withered.

The spell had taken days to perfect, and she only had a very narrow window. Rowena counted out the seconds, feeling the girl’s skin grow colder. When enough time had passed, she finished the incantation and pressed a kiss to that troubling mouth. It was still warm.

 For a moment, nothing. Then she gasped and shuddered, sitting up. 

“There,” Rowena said, patting her back gently as she coughed. “All done now. The deal’s complete. He’ll get his treasure. And you’ll get your revenge, ten years ahead of schedule.”

The girl threw her arms around Rowena’s neck and laughed.

Three drops of blood, in a vial of glass. Ample payment. 

****

  
Rowena went to the king’s bedchamber one last time. The scent of pine forests clung to her skin.

 

“Hello, _darling_ ,” she purred. “Give me a kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> These super-short pieces, with strict word limits, are basically the only thing I have the brain power to write at the minute, but hopefully you like them and hopefully they're helping me gear up to dive back into longer works. 
> 
> This was quite a departure for me, really. I enjoy Rowena's character and I love Ruth's portrayal so it was fun to delve into it. What did you think?


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